


Need To Know

by likeadeuce



Category: Marvel, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeadeuce/pseuds/likeadeuce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby figures out what's up with Warren.  So what happens next?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need To Know

**Author's Note:**

> Recently, Warren Worthington has gotten his deadly Archangel powers back and is using them as part of Cyclops' covert _X-Force_ strike team. This is a secret to most of the other X-Men. In _Hulk/X-Men Team Up_, Warren and Bobby Drake were involved in a fight, during which Warren turned into Archangel -- but only after Bobby was unconscious. This story is set on the evening of the same day

Bobby's head hurts, and his neck is stiff from the day's fight when Cyclops flags him down in the corridor at Greymalkin.

"Drake!" Cyke says loudly, and points at a spot right in front of Bobby, like he thinks if he didn't do that, Bobby would scamper off and maybe get eaten by a bear.

"Summers!" Bobby answers. He considers his imitation of Scott -- the gesture, the tone, the square-shouldered posture -- to be one of his funnier bits, and he uses it now. Unfortunately, there's no one here to witness it aside from Scott himself, and so the joke goes to die, (like many jokes before it), in the Vacuum of Cyclops' General Lack of Self-Awareness and Focus on Things that Are Extremely Serious(trademarked). In fairness, Bobby shouldn't have expected anything else. Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought.

Scott drops his hand, looks puzzled at Bobby for half a second, but keeps his Fearless Leader Pose (also trademarked), and says,"I hear you and Warren were responsible for containing the Hulk today."

From anybody else, Bobby would assume this was a compliment, but coming from Scott, it feels more like a quiz. And even with as many years as he's been out of school, the idea of a quiz still triggers Bobby's bullshit generator. "Oh, we totally did. Because, you know, Hulk's our bud from way back when we were Defenders. I was all, 'Warren, we have to get him away from the city before he hurts himself!' And Warren was all, "Great idea, Bobby!" And we took the Blackbird and chased the Hulk out to Monument Valley and then there were all these, like, flying lady Hulk 'bots? Really pissing him off. And so I could tell, what this situation called for was some ice --." Bobby poses to demonstrate shooting ice rays at the terrifying lady Hulkbots, which he is pretty sure is a thing he actually did. "And so I got their wings all frozen, you know, and then once they were contained, Hulkie calmed down and-- " He trails off because the way Scott is looking at him, he either isn't buying this (more or less almost completely true) account, or Bobby has missed the point of the question.

"So you're the one who took the, umm, lady Hulkbots down?" Scott asks.

Bobby rubs the back of his neck. "I kind of got hit on the head? I don't actually remember the whole fight but based on what the Hulk and Warren said --"

"Warren?" Scott cuts him off. "What was Warren doing?"

"You know. Flying around? He's got speed, he can do diversions and stuff but as far as offense --" Bobby shrugs. "Plus in the desert, it's even hard for me to do much with ice. All the moisture gets used up pretty quickly." Bobby felt his voice getting smaller. "So if you want to get technical about what happened, it was probably mostly the Hulk taking care of things himself, but like I said, I got hit on the head, --"

Scott gives a sharp nod. "Thank you, Iceman." Then he turns on his boot heel like a drum major, and Bobby is watching him walk away.

"I'm _fine_, by the way! Thanks for giving a shit."

The force of Bobby's own voice surprises him. From Scott's expression when he looks around, that makes two of them. Still, Cyclops's tone is even as he says, "I know you're fine. Of course I know that. I've read the mission reports."

"Oh, right. Sure. Sorry." Bobby's instinct to swallow his indignation is strong -- that's more of an acknowledgment than he really expected from Scott -- and he almost lets it go, except -- "If you've read the damn mission reports, then why are you checking up on me? Wait, you know what?" He puts his hand out before Scott can answer (because something's nagging at him, he almost has it, but anything Cyke says is just going to distract him, which would probably be the intention). "You can spare me, okay? I don't care. Whatever excessive-compulsive need is filled by you getting me to answer questions you already know the answer to --"

Scott raises an eyebrow. "You mean 'obsessive-compulsive'?" He's way too calm.

Bobby crashes a fist into the flat of his other hand -- a good emphatic gesture but also, oww! -- and says, "It doesn't matter. You ask questions, I answer them, and as long as I didn't die out there today --"

"Oh, give me a break! You weren't going to die."

"As long as I'm not dead, I guess everything's _fine_!" Bobby turns on his heel, satisfied that he can make a dramatic exit just as well as Scott, and willfully not trying to figure out why he's so pissed off.

"Hey!" Scott grabs his shoulder, and Bobby whirls to snap at him again. But there's a look on Cyke's face that's not the anger he expects to see, and it brings Bobby up short for a second. "I'm glad you're okay." Scott speaks more softly than Bobby expects, too, and the grip on his shoulder relaxes. He leans closer, almost something like a hug, and says, "I knew you'd be okay."

Bobby lets himself smile. "Because I'm Iceman, and I'm awesome, right?"

"Yeah, umm. That, and -- I knew Warren would take care of you."

Bobby stiffens and steps back, as the nagging problem in the back of his mind slips into place. "Why are you so focused on Warren lately?"

"He's my friend. He's our friend. We're all friends. Right?"

"Wrong answer! Or. . .well, right answer. But I don't believe you really mean it. I'm going to ask _him_ what this is all about."

"Iceman! Don't!"

"Is that an order, Cyclops?"

Scott starts to speak, then stops and shakes his head. "No." He sounds like he's surprising himself, and repeats. "No. It's not for me to say. Do what you want."

"Do I need your permission to do what I want now, too?"

"Everybody can't know everything," Scott says. Bobby isn't sure whether it's an answer to his question or not, but it's the last thing out of Scott's mouth before he leaves Bobby alone in the corridor.

*

Bobby heads straight to Warren's room in the dormitory, and finds him in the middle of striking out with Psylocke.

"We fought the Hulk today," Warren is saying, conversationally. "We could have died."

"'But at my back I always hear time's winged chariot hurrying near'," Betsy recites dramatically. "You're not getting me with that _carpe diem_ garbage, Worthington. I grew up around English boys, they know all the tricks. Besides. We could die around here every day. Sometimes we do. It usually doesn't take."

It doesn't require an extensive knowledge of English poetry to understand what's at stake in Betsy and Warren's argument, and normally it's the kind of conversation Bobby would hesitate to interrupt. But they're talking with the door wide open, Betsy posing in the frame, Warren half-leaning against his bed. Ever since Betsy came back to join the team, the two of them have been having versions of the same conversation all over the place: in common rooms, restaurants, and in one case on the Blackbird during a mission. The narrative's pretty clear. Now that his ex-girlfriend is well and truly alive, Warren wants her back in his bed. And now that Betsy's back in this world, she's not convinced Warren missed her enough to deserve her. It's been an extremely effective pageant, assuming that the effect they want to achieve is to convince everybody at Greymalkin that they're screwing like bunnies whenever no one's watching.

Bobby does not feel bad about interrupting this conversation. Plus, he gets to duck under Betsy's arm to knock on the doorframe, which gives him a good view of her pose. It's a nice pose and he's only (more or less) human. "Warren," he says. "Can I talk to you alone? It's kind of important."

Betsy backs out of the doorway. "I wouldn't want to interrupt something kind of important." She turns to Bobby on her way out. "Did you know that your friend here broke up with me, back in the day, because he thought we could never be as happy as Scott and Jean?"

Bobby is fairly sure that Warren broke up with Betsy because she and Neal Shaara (whatever happened to him?) had a habit of rolling around in the snow together and not caring who saw them. But there's no way to answer her statement without insulting someone he doesn't want to insult and, besides, he can absolutely imagine Warren giving that as a reason (excuse?) for breaking up. So he just forces a smile in her general direction.

"Apparently, it turned out," Betsy continues, sashaying out the door, "neither could Scott and Jean. So sorry I had to be dead and miss the fireworks."

Warren crashes down onto his back on the bed. Bobby pushes the door shut with his foot. "She certainly is. . ." Warren sighs. "Well, she is what she's always been, I guess."

Bobby sits at the foot of the bed. "Are you sleeping with her?"

Warren tilts his head up. "Is that what everybody's saying?" Not indignant, not even really that curious. Bobby shrugs, and Warren says, "I think this has all been tougher for her than most people realize."

That could be a denial or an admission or a non sequitur. Bobby's sick of trying to tease the truth out of his friends' cryptic half-statements, and besides, it's none of his business. Then, because he can't think of a reason to put it off, Bobby asks,"Did you file a mission report about today?"

"Since when do you care about mission reports?" Warren's eyes narrow. "Is this the thing that's supposed to be important?"

"I --" Bobby stammers. "It's just --" He's been telling himself that this is all imaginary, that Scott's just being weird and excessive, or obsessive, or whatever. Maybe both. He hoped that Warren would help him laugh it off, but now he can't get away from the feeling that something is wrong. "Scott stopped me in the hall, right? And he was quizzing me about what happened today and I told him and --." Bobby plunges forward, "When he was done he said never mind, he read the mission reports. The only way he did that is if you turned one in and it would be one thing if he demanded for me to file one because he's Cyclops and also because I forget a lot. But he was obviously asking me questions, off the record, so he could compare them to what you wrote and I told him I was going to talk to you and he said not to, then changed his mind and said to do what I want but the only reason I can think of for this to be happening is that he doesn't trust what you told him and I'm confused and nobody will tell me what's going on. So --" He finally breathes again and asks Warren, "What's going on?"

Warren stands and starts rolling his shoulders, so that his wings move along with them, arching up and then flattening against his back. It's a nervous habit Bobby remembers from when they were kids, and not something he's seen much lately. San Francisco-Warren has been fun-loving, cocky, hard-partying, throwing money and influence around, far from nervous. At least, the Warren that Bobby knows has been like that. "It's not what you think," Warren says quietly. Settling his wings back against his body, he says, "It's not that Scott doesn't trust me. If anything, he trusts me _more_ than he ever has. Almost the way that he trusts Wolv -- Maybe I don't want to think too hard about that comparison."

Not knowing what to make of any of this, Bobby grasps onto the most obvious interpretation. "He doesn't trust _me_ is what you're saying."

"That's not what I mean. No. I -- He said it was okay for you to talk to me?"

"Do we need his permission?"

"Bobby --" Warren sighs. "Scott's not worried about what I said in the report, okay? He's worried about what you saw. Specifically, what you saw _me_ do."

"I didn't see anything! I was unconscious! And as soon as I told Scott that, he walked out on me. So if you want to get rid of me too --?" Bobby looks to the door.

Warren walks to stand between the door and Bobby. "You can't tell anyone," he says. "Get that? Not anyone, not ever." And before Bobby has a chance to suggest that maybe he's had second thoughts, and he _doesn't_ want to know this thing that he's not supposed to tell -- before Bobby say any of that, his friend begins to change.

Warren's fair skin shifts to a light metallic blue. His soft feathers shimmer into right angles, and Bobby is staring at a figure he thought he would never see again -- Archangel, the Harbinger of Death. "Holy shit, Warren. I didn't know you could still do that!" Bobby bites back the urge to say, _That is totally cool!_ because, well, clearly -- "This is the big secret?"

Warren's head is nodding, his wings are shaking, and as quickly as he transformed, he changes back. "So you see --" He slumps back against the door. He won't meet Bobby's eyes.

There's a long silence, and finally Bobby clears his throat. "Sorry, but I really don't see," he admits. "I hope it doesn't mean you and Scott are hanging out with Apocalypse again." Bobby starts to wonder exactly what he's gotten into. "You don't have to kill me if I tell anybody or anything, right?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Warren says. "But-- don't tell anybody. This is need-to-know."

"You know I won't. But -- " Warren doesn't seem eager to volunteer more information, so Bobby tries to think of the right questions. "You can change back and forth? And you control it?" Warren nods. "You're the one who took out those lady-Hulks, then." Another nod. "So -- you knew that we were going to win that fight. But I didn't. It probably didn't occur to you that it would have been helpful for me to know I had you backing me up." Bobby hears his voice rising as he speaks. "It might have kept me from doing something stupid and, you know, getting knocked out?"

"I --" Warren stammers. "I didn't think of that. Honestly, Bobby. There are only a handful of people -- some I've been on missions with and -- well, there was a thing in Japan, where Hank figured it out. But I haven't told him anything." He sighs and tilts his head back. "I miss Jean."

Bobby stares for a minute, trying to understand Warren's segue. "Because if she were here," he says, "you would tell her everything and she would totally understand?"

"Well -- yeah. She was good at that stuff."

"Jean?" Bobby repeats, disbelieving. Not because Warren is necessarily wrong about their dead friend -- Boobby misses her, too, sometimes, and there's no reason to think she wouldn't have been a help to Warren, but -- "What about the rest of us? Okay, let's just assume that I'm a totally useless idiot. What about Hank? There's no way Hank would possibly understand what you're going through. Because he's never had to deal with a transformation or a secondary mutation or -- " Bobby waves his hands around -- "turning blue!"

"I never thought of that, either."

"You haven't thought of much, have you?"

Warren starts to turn away, then pivots back. He folds his wings down against his body, as though to keep them away from Bobby, and takes a step backwards. "You're not a useless idiot."

"Not _totally_."

"No. Far from it. And I don't blame you for being angry. I can understand if you don't want to speak to me."

"I _do_ want to speak to you," Bobby sputters. "That's the whole point. It's all this not speaking that's the problem." He reaches out to touch Warren's shoulder. Warren twitches as though he's about to jerk away. But he doesn't.

Bobby stands still for a moment, then lets his hand slide to Warren's wing. "I've got time," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."

There's another pause, a moment of decision, then Warren leans down toward him. "God, Bobby," he says, "Oh my God." His breath is hot against Bobby's neck, and Bobby's hand slides over his back, getting lost in the soft feathers of his best friend's wings.

*

The next morning, Bobby finds Scott alone in the command center at Greymalkin. The furniture here is streamlined and minimalist, about as far from the Professor's old oak desk as you can get, and Scott doesn't look entirely comfortable in it. The chairs are supposed to be curved to the contours of the body - something about ergonomics and spinal health that Warren explained while Bobby wasn't listening. But instead of sinking into the curve, Scott is sitting across it at a diagonal, with his feet up on a piece that's either a coffee table or a chair.

Scott is staring down at some papers, going over them with a highlighter, wearing lace-up combat boots, a jacket with the black and gold X-logo, and one of those stupid old turtlenecks that used to be part of the uniform. Bobby hasn't seen anyone else wear one for years, and he suddenly wonders where Scott gets new ones. Does he have them tailor-made? Does he use unstable molecules? Or did Emma just like that look on him, and pick a lookalike up off the rack at Neiman Marcus?

That's the kind of thing Bobby thinks about while he waits for Scott to look up at him. Then he stops waiting.

"I talked to Warren," Bobby says. Scott sets the papers in his lap and looks up slowly, but he's in no hurry to speak. "I know about his powers," Bobby continues. "I know that he can change back and forth to Archangel, and I know that you two in your wisdom have decided the rest of us don't need to know what's going on." Scott still doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at him. "Since you're so concerned about who knows what about who. I just thought I'd get it out there, so you don't have to wonder."

"It was his choice," Scott says. "Not the mutation, that was an accident. But the fact that you weren't told before, that's Warren's decision.

"What does that mean? Did you tell him to keep it secret?"

"It's Warren's power, his prerogative. If he wanted to transform out there in front of everybody, I couldn't exactly stop him."

"And if he hadn't been scared to do it in the fight yesterday, I might not have gotten knocked out."

"Discreet isn't the same as scared."

"No, it isn't!" Bobby says. "But Warren's scared. And you're willing to use that to help _you_ be discreet, about whatever it is you guys are doing that you aren't telling me about."

"I said it before. Everybody can't know everything."

"And I don't expect to! God, Scott, do you really think that's what I want? I've never been part of the inner circle of leadership or whatever, not since we were kids. There's no reason that I would expect to know what you guys are doing half the time and to be completely honest, I don't really want to. But I'd at least like to preserve the illusion that all of you who actually _matter_ talk to each other. You should know that Warren's scared. And Hank should know something about what's going on. He's supposed to be _your_ best friend. Have you even talked to him?"

Scott brings a hand to his glasses, lets out a long sigh, and finally says, "Not productively."

"Well, do it. Because if you're waiting for Jean to come back and fix everything, it might be time to rethink that plan."

Scott's highlighter clatters on the floor, and his papers scatter. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Warren," Bobby says, and he can't help enjoying that he's taken Scott by surprise, for once. "Did you know he broke up with Betsy because he thought they could never be as perfect as you and Jean?"

At this, Scott's expression quickly changes from surprise to annoyance. "No, I had no idea. Because that's something that would have happened and Betsy would never have taken the opportunity to mention it to me." Sarcasm doesn't always suit Scott, because there's not that much difference between his ironic monotone and his regular monotone, but in this case it's pretty clear he's heard the story before. Scott and Betsy have a complicated history too. It's easy to lose track of all the drama even (especially?) if you've been an X-Man for your whole adult life, the way Bobby has. "How did this get to be about Jean?" Scott asks.

"Warren told me he could talk to Jean about what's going on with him," Bobby says. "Nobody who's actually alive or in a position to help, though. Funny how that works."

"So he's avoiding. Fine. That's him, that's not me. I've thought this whole thing through. You don't have to like it, but I know what I'm doing. Besides. Assuming Jean was here, what makes you think I'd be talking with her?"

Suddenly, it hits Bobby what _everybody can't know everything_ is actually about. "Emma doesn't know," he says.

"I haven't told her," Scott says, clearly choosing his words carefully. Bobby wonders if he and Emma trust each other about anything, and if not, how they live that way.

"Are you trying to tell me _she_ doesn't need to know? Are you sure this is about what people need to know and not what you feel like telling them? Isn't this the kind of thing you used to get pissed off at Professor X about?"

"It's exactly the kind of thing I used to get angry at the Professor about," Scott says.

Expecting a denial, Bobby is temporarily taken aback. "So -- you'd rather lie about being a liar than have people realize what a lying liar you are?"

Scott opens his mouth like he's about to snap back, then stops, and relaxes into the hint of a smile. "I'd like to be able to argue with that. I don't know that I can. What do you want from me, Bobby? Keeping in mind, 'Change everything about the way you do everything' isn't on the table. But if you have a concrete suggestion that might actually help the situation, I'll give it due consideration."

_Due consideration_. Like they're in a committee meeting. Bobby would make a joke about parliamentary procedure if he could remember any. On the other hand, it's a sign he's actually being taken seriously. So he breathes deeply and says, "Talk to Warren. Tell him you're not scared of what he's turned into, and he shouldn't be either. And if you are scared of what he is, then don't sneak around and lie about it. Get him help. He works with all those scientists. Have them check him out. Have _Hank_ check him out. If you feel like going wild with this , maybe you can even talk to Hank."

Scott nods slowly. "What you say makes a lot of sense. I'll think about it."

"You think about too many things," Bobby shoots back. "I'll be impressed when you do it."

"Fair enough." Scott bites his lip, probably hoping Bobby hasn't noticed that his conspicuous failure to actually promise anything. "Meanwhile, I'd ask you to continue to keep this quiet."

"I'm not telling any secrets that aren't mine to tell."

"Of course. Now. Is there anything I can do for you?"

And for the first time, it strikes Bobby that he has leverage. Scott very much wants him to keep quiet, but he can't -- or wouldn't -- do anything to stop him from spreading things around. Bobby has a bargaining chip or two, which he isn't used to. But --

But friends aren't bargaining chips.

Bobby walks up to Scott and puts a hand on his shoulder. "This _is_ for me," he says. "And for Warren and for Hank. Because they're my friends. Because _we're_ your friends."

Scott looks down at Bobby's hand on his shoulder, like he can't figure out what he's doing there. There's not much to say after that, and soon Bobby leaves. He knows a little more than he did when he came in, and he has no idea what he's going to do with it.


End file.
